


moonrise on a sunny day

by TorunnSays412



Series: the sun; the moon; the stars [2]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: (or trying to), Grief/Mourning, M/M, Mentions of the Holocaust, Moving On, spoilers for Dark Phoenix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 14:20:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20508431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TorunnSays412/pseuds/TorunnSays412
Summary: “Oh my God, you fucked Logan!”“No!”“Oh, you so did! And you gave me shit for even thinking about it - you actually did! Oh my God!”//Scott and Logan are sent to retrieve Peter from Genosha. Things are weird, and then get weirder.





	moonrise on a sunny day

**Author's Note:**

> So this got completely out of hand - would you believe me if I said this was supposed to be centered around Jean and Scott? But reading margaery's comment (thank you by the way) on the last one made me reconsider and think about what Scott and Logan's relationship would be like if Logan had never fallen in love with Jean. I may come back to revisit this because I'm still not fully happy with this, but I'm content enough with it. (I may also write something with Jean's character - but who knows, because classes just started up again.)  
Anyways, enjoy!

"Why do I have to?" Scott will never admit he is whining, but Hank and Alex exchange a long glance that tells him they noticed anyway.

"I would go, but Hank wants me to stay behind and test my skills," Alex says.

"Ew, tell me that's not a sex thing," Scott says, nose wrinkling at the thought of his older brother doing  _ that _ .

Alex flushes. "No! He wants to make sure I'm still fit to be an X-Men, Jesus, Scott."

"Why can't Logan just go by himself?"

"Because Logan is just as likely to kill Peter as bring him back," Hank says, "for making him cover as many classes as he and Alex have."

"But my classes -"

"Will be fine for a long weekend. I'll take care of them." Hank sounds confident. Scott is not.

He wants to complain further, but Alex is in big brother mode, and any wrong word will put Scott on his shit list.

"Fine."

"Excellent. We'll pass word to Logan and inform Erik and Charles you'll be coming." With that, Hank dismisses his presence, pulling various papers towards him. Alex follows him out, leaving Hank to his paperwork and other duties.

"Thank you, Scott." Alex claps him on the shoulder. "I know you don't want to, but Logan needs this. Charles will try to speak to him about his amnesia, and it will be good for him to get out. And you need this, too."

Scott shoots him a sharp glance, but Alex only continues. "You've gotten better since I've been here, but you need to go away. You need to mourn without worrying about everyone else. This will be good for both of you. Try to remember that."

Scott sighs in defeat. He knows Alex is right.

"Tell Logan to be ready by tonight. We're taking the jet," Scott mutters, hurrying away before Alex can say otherwise.

Packing is easy. He just throws things in a bag, then retreats to his classroom where he grades assignments and helps the few students that come in seeking his help. He sees Logan stalk by once - heading out of the mansion - and he wonders if Logan is pissed he’s being sent away.

//

Genosha is bustling with activity, even with the late hour, when the two of them finally arrive. Erik meets them, as stoic as ever.

“Hank called ahead. Charles is inside waiting for you.” Erik barely lets them grab their bags before he’s leading them away.

Charles is sitting at a table, an untouched plate of chicken and vegetables in front of him. “Scott! It’s so good to see you,” he says as the three of them enter. “There’s plenty more if you’re hungry.”

Logan sits down without complaint, and Erik grudgingly takes out two more plates and heaps them with food before placing them on the table. Logan digs in without invitation, completely ignoring everyone as he eats like he hadn’t eaten before they left, only a couple hours ago.

Charles asks questions about the students, the school, listening attentively as Scott responds.

“And your brother? He’s settling in, I assume,” Charles finally says, and Scott smiles a little.

“Oh, yeah. He and Hank are practically attached at the hip. But I haven’t seen either of them this happy in a long time. It’s good. It feels right.”

Charles smiles. “I’m happy for them.”

Erik hums but otherwise doesn’t join the conversation. Scott can tell, though, that he’s happy for the two of them as well. It’s easy to forget that, once, he was just as close to Hank and Alex as Charles is, even if it was decades ago now.

When they’ve finished eating, Erik shows them to a small building just behind his and Charles’. “Peter’s been staying here, there’s two more rooms for you to use. If you need anything, Peter can show you where it is.”

With that, he leaves, heading back home. Logan and Scott glance at each other but quickly decide it’s better to ignore Erik and his attitude and just go to bed.

Peter’s nowhere to be found, so they each take a bedroom silently and turn in for the night. Scott waits for several minutes, listening to the sounds of Logan rustling through his bag and then crawling into bed, and then waiting longer to see if Peter will emerge from whichever hole he’s hiding in.

Finally, he changes out of his jeans and jacket and falls into bed, closing his eyes and relaxing. He falls asleep faster than he would have thought.

//

The next morning he wakes late and hears someone in the small kitchen down the hall. He yawns and stretches, shoving his glasses back on his face before opening his eyes.

He pulls his jeans back on, then shoves his feet back into his sneakers before venturing out. Logan’s door is firmly closed, and now that he’s in the hall he can hear Peter humming as he makes something to eat.

“So have you actually told him or were you just using that as an excuse to hide from Logan?” he says, leaning against the doorframe as Peter whips around.

“Jeez, dude!”

“So?”

“No, I haven’t told him yet,” Peter finally says, turning back to his scrambled eggs.

“You’ve been here two weeks!”

“And it wasn’t the right time! Erik is – touchy, you know,” Peter says defensively.

“And he deserves to know anyways, Peter! You’ve known for how long? And you haven’t even given Erik a chance to – “

“Given me a chance to what?”

Scott freezes and Peter whips around, face suddenly pale. At some point, Erik had entered the house and snuck up on them both, and he was standing right behind Scott. Scott hadn’t heard him over Peter, and Peter had still been focused on his breakfast, and both had been completely ignorant of the door that held no trouble for a metal-manipulating mutant to open at his will.

“Um,” Peter says, incredibly intelligently, and Scott sighs the biggest sigh of his life and turns to face Erik. The man is much closer than previously thought, practically hovering over Scott’s shoulder, but he doesn’t let that stop him.

“Peter is your son, he’s known for years, he’s too scared to tell you, please figure this out so I don’t have to deal with this anymore.” Peter yelps behind him, for once too slow in his life to have stopped Scott.

“That’s it? I’ve known that since Apocalypse.” Erik shrugs and pushes past Scott, taking a seat at the small kitchen table.

“You  _ did?”  _ Scott and Peter stare at the older man incredulously, and he shrugs.

“It wasn’t hard to figure out. I knew you had looked familiar when we first met, but it wasn’t until years later that I realized why. And then you showed up for the final battle, and I couldn’t figure out why until everything clicked into place and I knew. I waited to see if you would say anything, but you never did and then I moved here. To be honest, I thought I would never see any of you again, and I figured you were better off without me in your life.” He looks thoughtful, but his eyes betray a deep sadness and regret.

Peter hastily plates a heaping pile of eggs and bacon before they burn and then sits at the table across from Erik. Scott notices he offers none of the food up, and scowls before heading to the counter to make some toast. He wants to be far away when they start having their heart-to-heart, or whatever it is Erik does when his long-lost son is sitting before him.

“What did your mother tell you of me?” Erik finally asks, and a part of Scott dies inside because  _ he doesn’t want to hear this please wait until his toast is done. _

“Not much. Only that you weren’t . . . exactly a good man? And that you didn’t know she was pregnant.” Peter scrapes up some eggs, his fork grating against Scott’s ears. His toast pops up, and he digs around for a knife to spread butter on the slices.

Just as he’s about to leave, Erik opens his mouth. “You should hear this too, Scott,” he says, and Scott stares at him.

“What? Why?”

“You’re the next generation. You should know why I chose to do the things I did. You both should.”

Scott sighs, but reluctantly sits down, crunching his toast bitterly.

“I don’t know if you know this, but,” Erik closes his eyes, and he looks so old for a second that Scott almost doesn’t want to know what will follow. “I was born in Germany, the only child of my parents. And then Hitler came to power, and just like that we lost everything. My friends were sent to the camps, and then neighbors, and my parents tried everything they could to get us out of the country, but it failed. They separated us, and when they took my mother away . . .

“My mutation manifested, and a man named Schmidt took interest. Tortured me, trying to show me control, and when I couldn’t do what he wanted he killed her, shot her right in front of me.”

Scott feels sick and is suddenly thankful he only made toast.

“I made it my mission to kill him, and chased him across the world trying to find my chance. That’s when I met Magda, when I was tracking a lead in Poland.”

He takes a long second, thinking of what to say next, and Scott glances at Peter only to see the other man studying Erik.

“You boys have to understand that I am not a good man. I have made many mistakes, and made many choices, some of which I believed to be for the better, but truly were not. I was even worse as a young man, still recovering from the trauma of the camps. I was angry, resentful, but Magda . . . she was a breath of fresh air. She was kind, and compassionate, and everything I was not, everything that had been beaten out of me as a child by the Nazis. I didn’t deserve her. I never did. But for whatever reason, she loved me, and I did everything I could to protect her and stepped back as far as I could from the search for Schmidt. I  _ wanted  _ to be with her, I  _ wanted  _ to be the man she deserved.”

Erik stands suddenly, shoulders tense, and stalks over to the coffee machine. He measures out coffee grounds carefully, dumps it in the filter, then fills the pot with water, with Peter and Scott watching helplessly at the table. He stabs the button to start the coffee, then spreads his hands flat against the counter and hangs his head low, taking several breaths.

“She fell pregnant.” His words are nearly a whisper, and Peter sucks in a breath, and nausea churns Scott’s stomach – because Erik didn’t know about Peter. Which means this wouldn’t end well. “The moment she told me, I knew I would do anything to protect them. I got forged documents, gave us aliases, and then Anya was born and she was perfect because she was  _ ours.  _ I would have given up everything for her, would have cut out my own heart if it would save her.

“I decided to move us one last time, to get a better job, almost a year after she was born. We didn’t have much money at the time, so we stayed at an inn for a while, trying to find a place cheap enough we could settle down in the city. Magda had just put Anya down for a nap, and had come downstairs to bring me something I had forgotten when I had left for the afternoon.”

The sound of coffee spilling into the pot slows to a stop, and Erik slowly, methodically, raises a hand to pull down a mug. He pours himself a cup, but doesn’t drink it, finally turning to face them. His eyes are red with unshed tears as he sits back down.

“Somewhere in the inn, a fire had been set. We never determined if it was intentionally, but it spread so fast. I dragged Magda away, got her safe, and then went back to grab Anya. But I was stopped by a mob of people – people who didn’t like our presence in their city, trying to take jobs they believed belonged to them. They wouldn’t let me through – and I snapped. I used my powers, brought down a good portion of the city, but it didn’t help because I had to stand by and watch as the inn burned down with my little girl in it.

“Magda was inconsolable, and she was terrified of me – she hadn’t known, I hadn’t told her what I could do. It was to protect her. When they finally put out the fire, they let us bury Anya, but Magda left days after. I never saw her again, and I didn’t try to because the death of Anya was the death of our relationship as well. We could never have come back from what happened that day. We both knew it.”

Peter’s hands are trembling. “Oh, God,” he murmurs, shaking his head. “No wonder she never told me.”

“Every bit of anger I had managed to lock away resurfaced, and I resumed the search for Schmidt. Eventually that led me here, where I met Charles. You both know that story, however.” Erik finally takes a sip of his coffee.

Scott closes his eyes, thinking carefully on his next move, and finally bites his lip. This is not his conversation, and while Erik chose to share it with him anyways, he doesn’t want to intrude any longer.

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” he says quietly. “I’m sorry about your daughter. Thank you for sharing it with me. I’m – going to leave you two alone now. To talk.” He rises quickly, feeling Erik’s eyes on his back as he dumps his plate in the sink and hightails it out of the kitchen, going straight outside.

He heads for a large tree several yards away from the house, with decent shade in the bright sunshine. He collapses at the base, leaning back and closing his eyes, thinking about Erik and Magda, about little Anya, about Jean.

He’s so lost in thought that he almost doesn’t hear someone approaching, but when he cracks open his eyes he sees Logan with two bottles of beer, hand outstretched to offer him one.

“Bit early to be drinking, isn’t it?” he says even as he accepts the bottle.

“Overheard some of what happened in the kitchen. Figured you could use it.” Logan shifts his weight uncertainly, debating whether he should leave, until Scott pats the grass next to him in invitation.

Logan sits quietly, and Scott follows suit, and they drink their beers and watch the island buzz with life, mutants doing daily tasks and talking and laughing and  _ living. _

They don’t speak. The silence is comforting, in a way.

//

Charles eventually sends someone to find Logan, a small woman with warm brown eyes and smile as sharp as a knife. She drags Logan away, leaving Scott feeling sad and a little lonely as his thoughts return to Jean. 

He thought about having a family with her, not often but often enough. A little boy with red hair and brown eyes, or a girl with brown hair and blue eyes. He thought about leaving the X-Men, living in a normal house with Jean and any kids they might have, with normal lives. 

Of course, that was impossible, because they were mutants. Their normal is not the same normal as the rest of the world, and nothing he did would change that, but it was a nice thought at the time. 

Now he would never get that. Jean would never get her dream wedding, would never have children or get to buy a house. She was gone.

He gets up, and finds the busiest person he can, and begs for a job. If he doesn’t stop thinking he’ll go crazy. 

//

The woman he finds assigns him to washing and sorting vegetables. Boring on any other day, but today he takes to making them as clean as he can, careful and methodical to avoid any lingering thoughts on Jean. 

Hours pass this way. When the basket full of veggies begins running low, someone new brings him another of freshly-picked. He washes carrots, separates lettuce and cabbage, places cucumbers and green beans in smaller baskets. He doesn’t realize how much time has passed until the sun starts setting, and he finally feels the ache in his back and hands and the sweat-slick shirt sticking to his skin. 

He winces and stretches and sees Charles in the distance, talking to Logan. Logan looks distressed - as much as he can, at least, which isn’t much different from his regular face - and Charles finally waves him away and comes over to Scott. 

“Put you to work already, huh?” He chuckles, placing his hands on his lap. He’s wearing a t-shirt and loose pants, the most dressed down Scott has ever seen him. At the mansion, even his pajamas were nicer. He looks happy, content, though, so Scott can’t blame him. 

“I asked for it,” he admits, and feels a sort of pride as he looks over what he had done over the day. Charles’ face softens, a sadness entering his eyes. 

“How are you doing, Scott?” 

Scott thinks about lying, saying he’s fine, but even if he wasn’t a telepath Charles knows him too well now. “It’s hard. Waking up and seeing her side of the bed cold and empty. Her clothes in the closet. Laughing with our friends only to realize hers is missing.” Scott buries his head in his hands, shoulders dropping. “I miss her so much, Professor.”

“Oh, Scott,” Charles whispers, and doesn’t comment on his use of a title he no longer holds. He wheels himself closer, placing a hand on his back and rubbing circles. “I know it’s hard. And it always will be, the pain will never fully go away. But it gets easier to bear.”

Charles sighs. “Your family is here for you, Scott. Your brother will do anything he can to help. And, as much as he won’t admit it to you, Erik has a place for you, or any one of the X-Men, here in Genosha, if you choose to take it. You have people to help, places to come to when you need a break from it all. Take all the time you need to grieve, and we’ll still be here when you need us.” 

Scott lifts his head and nods slightly. Charles hums. “Dinner will be ready in an hour. You can join us if you choose. If not, I’ll send leftovers over for when you’re ready to eat.”

“Thanks,” Scott murmurs, and Charles pats his back one last time before leaving. 

Scott takes another minute, then finally heaves himself up to take a shower. He doesn’t feel hungry when he steps out, but he needs company to distract him so he redresses in clean clothes and heads over to Charles and Erik’s, where he can smell roasted potatoes and steak. 

Peter is sitting next to Charles at the table, with a place set for Erik across from him. There’s an empty space, presumably for Scott, and then Logan sits at the other end, looking incredibly uncomfortable. 

Scott sits. Erik comes in from the kitchen with the last plate of food, and then Peter starts a mad dash for a full plate, grabbing the best pieces of anything he can get away with. Scott waits for the others to grab their portions, taking the last steak and scooping some potatoes onto his plate. There’s a salad as well, which he tries to ignore until Charles gives him a look, and he’s automatically grabbing the salad tongs before he can think. 

Dinner is peaceful, with everyone falling into conversation easily. Erik and Peter have talked everything out, and while they’re still awkward with each other they aren’t avoiding their familial relationship either. Logan mostly is quiet, but Charles drags him into conversation every few minutes. 

Scott is reminded so heavily of dinner at the mansion that he nearly chokes on his salad. He passes it off as a cough, and drinks some water to clear his throat, but he can so clearly see the first X-Men sitting in the kitchen, talking and laughing as Erik and Charles sat and watched, content to just be there. He can see his brother, laughing at something. He can see Hank, flushing with anger sat next to him. He can see Raven, blond and nervous, but hiding under her mask of confidence. 

This, two old, nearly broken men, an amnesiac Canadian, and two teachers for a mutant school - this feels just as much like home as any dinner he’s ever had with Jean and their friends, with Hank and Alex. It scares him for a second, but he pushes it aside and chooses to focus on his dinner. 

He helps clear the dishes afterward, ignoring Logan slinking out when no one is looking. Erik disappears, and Charles shortly after, leaving Peter and Scott to walk back to their rooms together. 

“Are you happier now?” Scott asks suddenly, as Peter reaches ahead to push open the door. Logan is nowhere in sight, either already in his room or sulking about somewhere on the property. 

“What?” 

“Now that you’ve told him. Do you feel different?”

Peter takes a second to think about it, flinging his shoes off so they land in a heap in front of the door. Scott automatically kicks them flat when he bends over to take his own off, years of living in the same house training him to keep things straight - it’s amazing how quickly something could get lost when it isn’t in its designated place. 

“Not really? I’ve gone so long without him being my dad, and he’s not really trying to be, you know? But I am glad I know a little more about him. Mom refused to tell me any of that at all. History is - “ His voice fades, an expression of disbelief coming over his face, like he can’t believe what he’s about to say. “History is important. And that goes for family history too.”

Scott can’t argue against that, so he nods then says a quiet goodnight, leaving Peter to his thoughts and going to bed early. 

//

The next morning Scott offers his services around the island again. He sees that Logan had already been called in, and was set to chopping wood, and is surprised the man had allowed himself to be talked to long enough to be guilted into it. 

The woman he finds - Amara, a young woman who can fly - sets him to helping build the small schoolhouse. Charles had apparently advocated for it when he first arrived - even if there were no children, he still wanted there to be an area where teenagers and young adults could feel safe learning. He was in the process of setting up a program with Hank, where Charles could order supplies through him as he was approached by members of the community. 

Everything is mostly built already, but he helps where he can, and before he knows it most of the day has passed. It’s when he’s taking a quick break, drinking water greedily, that he realizes Logan has only just put down his ax - and only because Charles has come out to drag him from it. They must be having another session, judging by Logan’s face. 

Eventually work slows as the day comes to a close. Scott finally wanders off to take a shower, and comes back to eat dinner with the others, just a normal night. 

Except then he can’t bring himself to go to bed. He feels bone-deep exhaustion, the ache of burning muscles from using them for so long and hard, but his hands are shaking at the thought of going to bed alone. This hasn’t happened in days, weeks - but these nights are the hardest. It’s better not to even try. 

He takes a walk, breathing in the fresh air and tipping his head back to look at the stars. Finally he sits, curling up underneath a tree and wrapping his arms around his knees. He sets his chin on top, closing his eyes, but quickly opens them again when he thinks of her and decides to watch the sky instead. 

Logan appears a few minutes later with a six-pack in hand - Scott doesn’t even know where he got it from, he doesn’t think he’s seen anyone else with beer - although he may have snuck it onto the jet when Scott wasn’t looking. He doesn’t seem surprised to see Scott, but he also doesn’t look happy (although he never looks happy. Would Scott even be able to tell if he was?)

Logan doesn’t even ask for permission this time, just sprawls out next to him and offers him a bottle almost as an afterthought. 

“Seen you walk around the mansion late at night. You say you’re on patrol - keeping the kids in bed - but you miss her. You can’t sleep,” Logan finally says, and Scott wants to scream, kick, punch, because  _ no, not you too, I can’t deal with this. _

Instead, he says, “Yeah.”

That seems to be good enough, because Logan says nothing for a long while, and Scott’s on his second beer and Logan on his third when he finally continues. “You need a distraction.”

Scott scoffs. “Thank you, Sherlock fucking Holmes, for that bright observation,” he counters, tone as sharp as Logan’s own claws and cutting just as deeply. “What do you think I’ve been doing?”

Logan is quiet, watching Scott with eyes that seem far too knowing considering the man still doesn’t remember most of his own past. It infuriates Scott - and maybe he should have declined the beer, but he had never been a lightweight before and he shouldn’t be this affected by two beers- but he throws a punch. It misses - Logan twists last second, and his fist plows straight into the tree. 

(In hindsight, he probably would have broken his hand if he actually landed a punch on Logan, but that’s not what is on his mind.)

Maybe Logan is right. Maybe he just needs to get it out of his system with one good distraction, something to keep him occupied for a little while. 

“You think I need a distraction?” Scott pushes up to his feet, drops the empty beer bottle at his feet. “Come on, then. Be my distraction.”

Logan sighs and tips his head back to drain the last of his beer, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand after. He stands, rolling his shoulders back. 

“Just remember you asked for this.”

//

Scott could not tell you how a fight went from vicious and bloody to - whatever this is - but he finds himself pinned under Logan’s bulk and the next thing he knows - 

Well. 

//

Scott wakes up in Logan’s bed. He feels like the victim of a trainwreck - there’s bruises on his arms, hips, his head hearts and his mouth is dry. 

It takes a second for it to come back, for the walk from the field to the house, following Logan up the stairs, being asked, “Are you sure?” in a low voice that will surely haunt him later. 

Logan, thankfully, is not there, although his side of the bed is still warm so he hasn’t been gone long. 

He needs time to process.

//

(He doesn’t process it. Instead, he climbs into bed with Logan willingly that night - and they have a quickie in the shed before they depart the next morning.

Alex is going to kill him.)

//

They don’t talk about it. They pack up, drag Peter on the jet, and say goodbye to Erik and Charles, and then they leave. 

Peter takes a nap. Scott concentrates on piloting so he won’t look at Logan sitting next to him. Logan watches the sky, eyes skating over white clouds. 

They land a few hours later. Peter stumbles out and immediately takes off for his own room - probably avoiding Hank, and the lecture he is sure to receive the next time he sees him. This leaves Scott and Logan standing together, bags at their feet, and Scott sighs before he gathers up all his courage and faces the other man. 

“This trip - what happened there, it stays there. We can’t -” 

“I agree. It stays there.” Logan’s voice is rough, eyes bright. “We’ve got enough shit to deal with here. No reason to add more to the pile.”

They part ways. 

This doesn’t explain why they hook up only six hours later. 

(Or why they keep doing it. Or why they start spending  _ quality time  _ together.)

//

“What the fuck happened on that trip?” 

Scott spins around to see his brother, hands on his hips, and he almost wants to run. He had been cleaning his room - considering donating some of Jean’s clothes - when Alex had barged in and slammed the door shut behind him. 

“What are you talking about?” Scott says, quickly turning around and focusing on folding his laundry so Alex can’t read his face. He had been avoiding this conversation for two weeks, and had been lucky enough to evade Alex with excuses of grading and training and whatever else he can come up with on the spot. 

Ambushed in his own room. Smart move on his brother’s part.

“You used to refuse to be in the same room as Logan, now you’re  _ sitting next to him at dinner?”  _ His voice starts to rise towards a yell at the end, and with trouble he finally manages to bring it down. 

“We - reached an understanding?” Scott doesn’t mean for it to come out as a question. He can’t take it back. 

He can feel Alex’s eyes boring into his back, and he hastily picks a pair of jeans to fold next, smoothing out the wrinkles first. 

“Oh my God.” Alex’s voice is incredulous. “What’s that on your neck?”

“What?” Scott straightens, slaps a hand to his own neck - and realizes Logan  _ left a goddamn hickey on him.  _ “I’m going to kill him,” he mutters to himself, and then catches himself a second too late as Alex’s eyes widen. 

“Oh my God, you fucked Logan!”

“No!”

“Oh, you so did! And you gave me shit for even thinking about it - you actually did! Oh my God!” 

“Alex!” He throws the jeans at his brother, but Alex is prepared and dodges, yanks open the door and dashes down the hall. “Get back here!”

Scott chases his brother through the mansion, but his brother has a head start and is already halfway to the door. 

He can’t deny that he’s laughing, though, even as he swears to kill Alex and Logan in the next breath. 


End file.
